ESSAY 

ON 

LITERATURE 


9 


JOHN  HENRY  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 


m 


f r ' 


1917 

WORCESTER,  MASS. 
Skelley  Print,  25  Foster  Street 


ESSAY 

ON 

LITERATURE 


JOHN  HENRY  CARDINAL  NEWMAN 


BOSTON  COLLEGE  LIBRA1*A 
CHESTlfOT  HILL,  MASS, 


1917 

WORCESTER,  MASS. 
Skelley  Print,  25  Foster  Street 


H5 

, Kl'-V'a.'f 

\AH 


I 


LITERATURE 


Vi-  Wishing  to  address  you,  gentlemen,  at  the 
commencement  of  a new  Session,  I tried  to  find  a 
subject  for  discussion,  which  might  be  at  once 
suitable  to  the  occasion,  yet  neither  too  large  for 
your  time,  nor  too  minute  or  abstruse  for  your 
attention.  I think  I see  one  for  my  purpose  in  the 
very  title  of  your  Faculty.  It  is  the  Faculty  of 
Philosophy  and  Letters.  Now  the  question  may 
arise  as  to  what  is  meant  by  “Philosophy,”  and 
what  is  meant  by  “Letters.”  As  to  the  other 
Faculties,  the  subject-matter  which  they  profess 
is  intelligible,  as  soon  as  named,  and  beyond  all 
dispute.  We  know  what  science  is,  what  medi- 
cine, what  law,  and  what  theology;  but  we  have 
not  so  much  ease  in  determining  what  is  meant 
by  philosophy  and  letters.  Each  department  of 
that  two-fold  province  needs  explanation:  it  will 
be  sufficient,  on  an  occasion  like  this,  to  investigate 
one  of  them.  Accordingly,  I shall  select  for  remark 
-the  latter  of  the  two,  and  attempt  to  determine 
what  we  are  to  understand  by  letters  or  literature, 
( in  what  literature  consists,  and  how  it  stands 
relatively  to  science,,  We  speak,  for  instance,  of 
ancient  and  modern  literature;  the  literature 
of  the  day,  sacred  literature,  light  literature; 


4 


newman’s  literature 


and  our  lectures  in  this  place  are  devoted  to 
classical  literature  and  English  literature.  Are 
letters,  then,  synonymous  with  books?  This  can- 
not be,  or  they  would  include  in  their  range  phi- 
losophy, law,  and,  in  short,  the  teaching  of  all  the 
other  faculties.  Far  from  confusing  these  various 
studies,  we  view  the  works  of  Plato  or  Cicerc 
sometimes  as  philosophy,  sometimes  as  literature : 
on  the  other  hand,  no  one  would  ever  be  tempted 
to  speak  of  Euclid  as  literature,  or  of  Matthiae’s 
Greek  Grammar.  Is,  then,  literature  synonymou: 
with  composition  ? with  books  written  with  ar 
attention  to  style?  Is  literature  fine  writing 
again,  is  it  studied  and  artificial  writing? 

II.  There  are  excellent  persons  who  seem  tc 
adopt  this  last  account  of  Literature  as  their  own 
idea  of  it.  They  depreciate  it,  as  if  it  were  thf 
result  of  a mere  art  or  trick  of  words.  Professedly 
indeed,  they  are  aiming  at  the  Greek  and  Romar 
classics,  but  their  criticisms  have  quite  as  great 
force  against  all  literature  as  against  any.  1 
think  I shall  be  best  able  to  bring  out  what  I 
have  to  say  on  the  subject  by  examining  the  state 
ments  which  they  make  in  defence  of  their  owr 
view  of  it.  They  contend,  then,  1.  that  fine  writ 
ing,  as  exemplified  in  the  Classics,  is  mainly  < 
matter  of  conceits,  fancies,  and  prettinesses 
decked  out  in  choice  words;  2.  that  this  is  th' 
proof  of  it,  that  the  Classics  will  not  bear  tram 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


5 


lating  (and  this  is  why  I have  said  that  the  real 
attack  is  upon  literature  altogether,  not  the  clas- 
sical only;  for,  to  speak  generally,  all  literature, 
modern  as  well  as  ancient,  lies  under  this  disad- 
vantage. This,  however,  they  will  not  allow;  for 
they  maintain);  3.  that  Holy  Scripture  presents 
a remarkable  contrast  to  secular  writings  on  this 
very  point,  viz.,  in  that  Scripture  does  easily 
admit  of  translation,  though  it  is  the  most  sublime 
and  beautiful  of  all  writings. 

III.  Now  I will  begin  by  stating  these  three 
positions  in  the  words  of  a writer,  who  is  cited  by 
the  estimable  Catholics  in  question  as  a witness, 
or  rather  as  an  advocate,  in  their  behalf,  though 
he  is  far  from  being  able  in  his  own  person  to 
the  respect  which  is  inspired  by  them- 


There  are  two  sorts  of  eloquence,”  says 
this  writer,  “the  one  indeed  scarce  deserves  the 
name  of  it,  which  consists  chiefly  in  labored  and 
polished  periods,  an  over-curious  and  artificial 
arrangement  of  figures,  tinselled  over  with  a 
gaudy  embellishment  of  words,  which  glitter,  but 
convey  little  or  no  light  to  the  understanding.  This 
kind  of  writing  is  for  the  most  part  much  affected 
and  admired  by  the  people  of  weak  judgment  and 
vicious  taste;  but  it  is  a piece  of  affectation  and 
formality  the  sacred  writers  are  utter  strangers  to. 
It  is  a vain  and  boyish  eloquence;  and,  as  it  has 


6 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


always  been  esteemed  below  the  great  geniuses  of 
all  ages,  so  much  more  so  with  respect  to  those 
writers  who  were  actuated  by  the  spirit  of  Infinite 
Wisdom,  and  therefore  wrote  with  the  force  and 
majesty  with  which  never  man  writ.  The  other 
sort  of  eloquence  is  quite  the  reverse  to  this,  and 
which  may  be  said  to  be  the  true  characteristic  of 
the  Holy  Scriptures;  where  the  excellence  does 
not  arise  from  a labored  and  far-fetched  elocution, 
but  from  a surprising  mixture  of  simplicity  and 
majesty,  which  is  a double  character,  so  difficult 
to  be  united  that  it  is  seldom  to  be  met  with  in 
compositions  merely  human.  We  see  nothing  in 
Holy  Writ  of  affectation  and  superfluous  orna- 
ment . . . Now,  it  is  observable  that  the 

most  excellent  profane  authors,  whether  Greek  or 
Latin,  lose  most  of  their  graces  whenever  we  find 
them  literally  translated.  Homer’s  famed  repre- 
sentation of  Jupiter — his  cried-up  description  of  a 
tempest,  his  relation  of  Neptune’s  shaking  the 
earth  and  opening  it  to  its  centre,  his  description 
of  Pallas’s  horses,  with  numbers  of  the  long-since 
admired  passages,  flag,  and  almost  vanish  away, 
in  the  vulgar  Latin  translation. 

V.  “Let  any  one  but  take  the  pains  to  read 
the  common  Latin  interpretations  of  Virgil, 
Theocritus,  or  even  of  Pindar,  and  one  may  ven- 
ture to  affirm  he  will  be  able  to  trace  out  but  few 
remains  of  the  graces  which  charmed  him  so  much 


newman’s  literature  7 

in  the  original . The  natural  conclusion  from 
hence  is,  that  in  the  classical  authors,  the  expres- 
sion, the  sweetness  of  the  numbers,  occasioned 
by  a musical  placing  of  words,  constitute  a great 
part  of  their  beauties ; J whereas,  in  the  sacred 
writings,  they  consist  more  in  the  greatness  of  the 
things  themselves  than  in  the  words  and  expres- 
sions. The  ideas  and  conceptions  are  so  great 
and  lofty  in  their  own  nature  that  they  necessarily 
appear  magnificent  in  the  most  artless  dress. 
Look  but  into  the  Bible,  and  we  see  them  shine 
through  the  most  simple  and  literal  translations. 
That  glorious  description  which  Moses  gives  of 
the  creation  of  the  heavens  and  the  earth,  which 
Longinus  . . . was  so  greatly  taken  with, 

has  not  lost  the  least  whit  of  its  intrinsic  worth, 
and  though  it  has  undergone  so  many  translations, 
yet  triumphs  over  all,  and  breaks  forth  with  as 
much  force  and  vehemence  as  in  the  original 

In  the  history  of  Joseph,  where  Joseph  makes 
himself  known,  and  weeps  aloud  upon  the  neck 
of  his  dear  brother  Benjamin,  that  all  the  house 
of  Pharaoh  heard  him,  at  that  instant  none  of  his 
brethren  are  introduced  as  uttering  aught,  either 
to  express  their  present  joy  or  palliate  their 
former  injuries  to  him.  On  all  sides  there  im- 
mediately ensues  a deep  and  solemn  silence;  a 
silence  infinitely  more  eloquent  and  expressive 
than  anything  else  that  could  have  been  substi- 


8 


newman’s  literature 


tuted  in  its  place.  Had  Thucydides,  Herodotus, 
Livy,  or  any  of  the  celebrated  classical  historians, 
been  employed  in  writing  this  history;  when  they 
came  to  this  point  they  would  doubtless  have  ex- 
hausted all  their  fund  of  eloquence  in  furnishing 
Joseph’s  brethren  with  labored  and  studied  ha- 
rangues, which,  however  fine  they  might  have 
been  in  themselves,  would  nevertheless  have  been 
unnatural,  and  altogether  improper  on  the  occa- 


VI. This  is  eloquently  written,  but  it  contains, 
I consider,  a mixture  of  truth  and  falsehood, 
which  it  will  be  my  business  to  discriminate  from 
each  other.  Far  be  it  from  me  to  deny  the  un- 
lr  and  simplicity  of  Holy 


are,  has  human  compositions,  simple  and  majestic 
and  natural,  torn]  I grant  that  Scripture  is  con- 
cerned with  things,  but  I will  not  grant  that  classi- 
cal literature  is  simply  concerned  with  words.  I 
grant  that  human  literature  is  often  elaborate,  but 
I will  maintain  that  elaborate  composition  is  not 
unknown  to  the  writers  of  Scripture.  I grant  that 
human  literature  cannot  easily  be  translated  out 
of  the  particular  language  to  which  it  belongs; 
but  it  is  not  at  all  the  rule  that  Scripture  can 
easily  be  translated  either — and  now  I address 
myself  to  my  task : 

* Sterne,  Sermon  XLII. 


sion. 


maintain  that  the  classics 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


9 


VII.  Here,  then,  in  the  first  place,  I observe, 
gentlemen,  that  Literature,  from  the  derivation  of 
the  word,  implies  writing,  not  speaking;  this,  how- 
ever, arises  from  the  circumstance  of  the  copious- 
ness, variety,  and  public  circulation  of  the  matters 
of  which  it  consists.  What  is  spoken  cannot  out- 
run the  range  of  the  speaker’s  voice,  and  perishes 
in  the  uttering.  When  words  are  in  demand  to 
express  a long  course  of  thought,  when  they  have 
to  be  conveyed  to  the  ends  of  the  earth,  or  per- 
petuated for  the  benefit  of  posterity,  they  must  be 
written  down,  that  is,  reduced  to  the  shape  of  lit- 
erature; still,  properly  speaking,  the  terms  by 
which  we  denote  this  characteristic  gift  of  man 
belong  to  its  exhibition  by  means  of  the  voice,  not 
of  handwriting.  It  addresses  itself,  in  its  primary 
idea,  to  the  ear,  not  to  the  eye.  We  call  it  the 
power  of  speech,  we  call  it  language,  that  is,  the 
use  of  the  tongue;  and  even  when  we  write,  we 
still  keep  in  mind  what  was  its  original  instru- 
ment, for  we  use  freely  such  terms  in  our  books  as 
“saying,”  “speaking,”  “telling,”  “talking,”  “call- 
ing”; we  use  the  term  “phraseology”  and  “dic- 
tion” as  if  we  were  still  addressing  ourselves  to 
thenar. 

vVlII.  Now  I insist  on  this,  because  it  shows 
that  speech,  and  therefore  literature,  which  is  its 
permanent  record,  is  essentially  a personal  work. 
It  is  not  some  production  or  result  attained  by 


10 


newman’s  literature 


the  partnership  of  several  persons,  or  by  machin- 
ery, or  by  any  natural  process,  but  in  its  very  idea 
it  proceeds,  and  must  proceed,  from  some  one 
given  individual.  Two  persons  cannot  be  the 
authors  of  the  sounds  which  strike  our  ear;  and,  as 
they  cannot  be  speaking  one  and  the  same  speech, 
neither  can  they  be  writing  one  and  the  same  lec- 
ture or  discourse — which  must  certainly  belong  to 
some  one  person  or  other,  and  is  the  expression  of 
that  one  person’s  ideas  and  feelings — ideas  and 
feelings  personal  to  himself,  though  others  may 
have  parallel  and  similar  ones — proper  to  himself, 
in  the  same  sense  as  his  voice,  his  air,  his  counte- 
nance, his  carriage,  and  his  action  are  personal. 
In  other  words,  literature  expresses,  not  objective 
truth,  as  it  is  called,  but  subjective;  not  things, 
but  thoughts. 

IX.  Now  this  doctrine  will  become  clearer  by 
considering  another  use  of  words,  which  does  re- 
late to  objective  truth,  or  to  things;  which  relates 
to  matters,  not  personal,  not  subjective  to  the  in- 
dividual, but  which,  even  were  there  no  individual 
man  in  the  whole  world  to  know  them  or  to  talk 
about  them,  would  exist  still.  Such  objects  be- 
come the  matter  of  science,  and  words  indeed  are 
used  to  express  them,  but  such  words  are  rather 
symbols  than  language,  and  however  many  we 
use,  and  however  we  may  perpetuate  them  by 
writing,  we  never  could  make  any  kind  of  litera- 


newman’s  literature 


11 


ture  out  of  them,  or  call  them  by  that  name.  Such, 
for  instance,  would  be  Euclid’s  Elements;  they 
relate  to  truths  universal  and  eternal ; they  are  not 
mere  thoughts,  but  things;  they  exist  in  them- 
selves, not  by  virtue  of  our  understanding  them, 
not  in  dependence  upon  our  will,  but  in  what  is 
called  the  nature  of  things,  or  at  least  on  condi- 
tions external  to  us.  The  words,  then,  in  which 
they  are  set  forth  are  not  language,  speech, 
literature,  but  rather,  as  I have  said,  symbols. 
And  as  a proof  of  it  you  will  recollect  that  it  is 
possible,  nay  usual,  to  set  forth  the  propositions  of 
Euclid  in  algebraical  notation,  which,  as  all  would 
admit,  has  nothing  to  do  with  literature.  What 
is  true  of  mathematics  is  true  also  of  every  study, 
so  far  as  it  is  scientific;  it  makes  use  of  words  as 
the  mere  vehicle  of  things,  and  is  thereby  with- 
drawn from  the  province  of  literature.  Thus 
metaphysics,  ethics,  law,  political  economy,  chem- 
istry, theology,  cease  to  be  literature  in  the  same 
degree  as  they  are  capable  of  a severe  scientific 
treatment.  And  hence  it  is  that  Aristotle’s  works 
on  the  one  hand,  though  at  first  sight  literature, 
approach  in  character,  at  least  a great  number  of 
them,  to  mere  science;  for  even  though  the  things 
which  he  treats  of  and  exhibits  may  not  always 
be  real  and  true,  yet  he  treats  them  as  if  they 
were,  not  as  if  they  were  the  thoughts  of  his  own 
mind;  that  is,  he  treats  them  scientifically.  On 
the  other  hand,  law  or  natural  history  has  before 


12 


NEWMAN’S  LITERATURE 


now  been  treated  by  an  author  with  so  much  of 
coloring  derived  from  his  own  mind  as  to  become 
a sort  of  literature;  this  is  especially  seen  in  the 
instance  of  theology,  when  it  takes  the  shape  of 
pulpit  eloquence.  It  is  seen,  too,  in  historical  com- 
position, which  becomes  a mere  specimen  of 
chronology,  or  a chronicle,  when  divested  of  the 
philosophy,  the  skill,  or  the  party  and  personal, 
feelings  of  the  particular  writer.  Science,  then, 
has  to  do  with  things,  literature  with  thoughts; 
science  is  universal,  literature  is  personal;  science 
uses  words  merely  as  symbols,  but  literature  uses 
language  in  its  full  compass,  as  including  phrase- 
ology, idiom,  style,  composition,  rhythm,  elo- 
quence, and  whatever  other  properties  are  included 
in  it. 

X.  Let  us  then  put  aside  the  scientific  use  of 
words,  when  we  are  to  speak  of  language  and  lit- 
erature. Literature  is  the  personal  use  or  exercise 
of  language.  That  this  is  so  is  further  proved 
from  the  fact  that  one  author  uses  it  so  differently 
from  another.  Language  itself  in  its  very  origina- 
tion would  seem  to  be  traceable  to  individuals. 
Their  peculiarities  have  given  it  its  character.  We 
are  often  able,  in  fact,  to  trace  particular  phrases 
or  idioms  to  individuals;  we  know  the  history  of 
their  rise.  Slang,  surely,  as  it  is  called,  comes  of 
and  breathes  of  the  personal.  The  connection  be- 
tween the  force  of  words  in  particular  languages 


newman’s  literature 


13 


and  the  habits  and  sentiments  of  the  nations 
speaking  them  has  often  been  pointed  out.  And 
while  the  many  use  language  as  they  find  it,  the 
man  of  genius  uses  it  indeed,  but  subjects  it  withal 
to  his  own  purposes,  and  molds  it  according  to  his 
own  peculiarities.  The  throng  and  succession  of 
ideas,  thoughts,  feelings,  imaginations,  aspirations, 
which  pass  within  him,  the  abstractions,  the  juxta- 
positions, the  comparisons,  the  discrimminations, 
the  conceptions,  which  are  so  original  in  him,  his 
views  of  external  things,  his  judgments  upon  life, 
manners,  and  history,  the  exercise  of  his  wit,  of 
his  humor,  of  his  depth,  of  his  sagacity,  all  these 
innumerable  and  incessant  creations,  the  very  pul- 
sation and  throbbing  of  his  intellect,  does  he  image 
forth,  to  all  does  he  give  utterance,  in  a correspond- 
ing language,  which  is  as  multiform  as  this  inward 
mental  action  itself  and  analogous  to  it,  the 
faithful  expression  of  his  intense  personality, 
attending  on  his  own  inward  world  of  thought 
as  its  very  shadow;  so  that  we  might  as  well 
say  that  one  man’s  shadow  is  another’s  as  that 
the  style  of  a really  gifted  mind  can  belong  to 
any  but  himself.  It  follows  him  about  as  a shadow. 
His  thought  and  feeling  are  personal,  and  so  his 
language  is  personal. 

XI.  Thought  and  speech  are  inseparable  from 
each  other.  Matter  and  expression  are  parts  of 
one:  style  is  a thinking  out  into  language.  This 


14 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


is  what  I have  been  laying  down,  and  this  is  lit- 
erature; not  things,  not  the  verbal  symbols  of 
things;  not,  on  the  other  hand,  mere  words,  but 
thoughts  expressed  in  language.  Call  to  mind, 
gentlemen,  the  meaning  of  the  Greek  word  which 
expresses  this  special  prerogative  of  man  over  the 
feeble  intelligence  of  the  inferior  animals.  It  is 
called  “logos”;  what  does  “logos”  mean?  It 
stands  both  for  reason  and  for  speech,  and  it  is 
difficult  to  say  which  it  means  more  properly.  It 
means  both  at  once:  why?  because  really  they  can- 
not be  divided — because  they  are  in  a true  sense 
one.  When  we  can  separate  light  and  illumina- 
tion, life  and  motion,  the  convex  and  the  concave 
of  a curve,  then  will  it  be  possible  for  thought  to 
tread  speech  under  foot,  and  to  hope  to  do  with- 
out it — then  will  it  be  conceivable  that  the  vigor- 
ous and  fertile  intellect  should  renounce  its  own 
double,  its  instrument  of  expression,  and  the 
channel  of  its  speculations  and  emotions. 

XII.  Critics  should  consider  this  view  of  the 
subject  before  they  lay  down  such  canons  of  taste 
as  the  writer  whose  pages  I have  quoted.  Such 
men  as  he  is  consider  fine  writing  to  be  an  addition 
from  without  to  the  matter  treated  of — a sort  of 
ornament  superinduced,  or  a luxury  indulged  in, 
by  those  who  have  time  and  inclination  for  such 
vanities.  They  speak  as  if  one  man  could  do  the 
thought,  and  another  the  style.  We  read  in 


NEWMAN’S  LITERATURE 


15 


Persian  travels  of  the  way  in  which  young  gentle- 
men go  to  work  in  the  East,  when  they  would  en- 
gage in  correspondence  with  those  who  inspire 
them  with  hope  or  fear.  They  cannot  write  one 
sentence  themselves;  so  they  betake  themselves  to 
the  professional  letter-writer.  They  confide  to 
him  the  object  they  have  in  view.  They  have  a 
point  to  gain  from  a superior,  a favor  to  ask,  an 
evil  to  deprecate;  they  have  to  approach  a man  in 
power,  or  to  make  court  to  some  beautiful  lady. 
The  professional  man  manufactures  words  for 
them  as  they  are  wanted,  as  a stationer  sells 
them  paper,  or  a schoolmaster  might  cut  their 
pens.  Thought  and  word  are,  in  their  conception, 
two  things,  and  thus  there  is  a division  of  labor. 
The  man  of  thought  comes  to  the  man  of  words; 
and  the  man  of  words,  duly  instructed  in  the 
thought,  dips  the  pen  of  desire  into  the  ink  of  de- 
votedness and  proceeds  to  spread  it  over  the  page 
of  desolation.  Then  the  nightingale  of  affection 
is  heard  to  warble  to  the  rose  of  loveliness,  while 
the  breeze  of  anxiety  plays  around  the  brow  of 
expectation.  This  is  what  the  Easterns  are  said 
to  consider  fine  writing ; and  it  seems  pretty  much 
the  idea  of  the  school  of  critics  to  whom  I have 
been  referring. 

XIII.  We  have  an  instance  in  literary  history 
of  this  very  proceeding  nearer  home,  in  a great 
university  in  the  latter  years  of  the  last  century. 


16 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


I have  referred  to  it  before  now  in  a public  lecture 
elsewhere;*  but  it  is  too  much  in  point  here  to  be 
omitted.  A learned  Arabic  scholar  had  to  deliver 
a set  of  lectures  before  its  doctors  and  professors 
on  an  historical  subject  in  which  his  reading  had 
lain.  A linguist  is  conversant  with  science  rather 
than  with  literature;  but  this  gentleman  felt  that 
his  lectures  must  not  be  without  a style.  He  took 
the  step  of  engaging  a person,  at  a price,  to  turn 
the  matter  which  he  had  got  together  into  orna- 
mental English.  Observe  he  did  not  wish  for 
mere  grammatical  English,  but  for  an  elaborate, 
pretentious  style.  An  artist  was  found  in  the  per- 
son of  a country  curate,  and  the  job  was  carried 
out.  His  lectures  remain  to  this  day  in  their  own 
place  in  the  protracted  series  of  annual  discourses 
to  which  they  belong,  distinguished  amid  a num- 
ber of  heavyish  compositions  by  the  rhetorical  and 
ambitious  diction  for  which  he  went  into  the  mar- 
ket. This  learned  divine,  indeed,  and  the  author 
I have  quoted  differ  from  each  other  in  the  esti- 
mate they  respectively  form  of  literary  composi- 
tion ; but  they  agree  together  in  this — in  consider- 
ing such  composition  a trick  and  a trade,  they  put 
it  on  a par  with  the  gold  plate,  and  the  flowers, 
and  the  music  of  a banquet,  which  do  not  make  the 
viands  better,  but  the  entertainment  more  pleasur- 
able; as  if  language  were  the  hired  servant,  the 


* *'  Position  of  Catholics  in  England,”  pp.  101,  2. 


newman’s  literature 


17 


mere  mistress  of  the  reason,  and  not  the  lawful 
wife  in  her  own  house. 

XIV.  But  can  they  really  think  that  Homer, 
or  Pindar,  or  Shakespeare,  or  Dryden,  or  Walter 
Scott,  were  accustomed  to  aim  at  diction  for  its 
own  sake,  instead  of  being  inspired  with  their  sub- 
ject, and  pouring  forth  beautiful  words  because 
they  had  beautiful  thoughts?  this  is  surely  too 
great  a paradox  to  be  borne.  Rather,  it  is  the  fire 
within  the  author’s  breast  which  overflows  in  the 
torrent  of  his  burning,  irresistible  eloquence;  it 
is  the  poetry  of  his  inner  soul,  which  relieves  itself 
in  the  ode  or  the  elegy;  and  his  mental  attitude 
and  bearing,  the  beauty  of  his  moral  countenance, 
the  force  and  keenness  of  his  logic  are  imaged  in 
the  tenderness,  or  energy,  or  richness  of  his  lan- 
guage. Nay,  according  to  the  well-known  line, 
“facit  indignatio  versus,”  not  the  words  alone, 
but  even  the  rhythm,  the  metre,  the  verse,  will  be 
the  contemporaneous  offspring  of  the  emotion  or 
imagination  which  possess  him.  “ Poeta  nascitur, 
non  fit,”  says  the  proverb;  and  this  is  in  numerous 
instances  true  of  his  poems  as  well  as  of  himself. 
They  are  born,  not  framed;  they  are  a strain 
rather  than  a composition;  and  their  perfection 
is  the  monument,  not  so  much  of  his  skill  as  of 
his  power.  And  this  is  true  of  prose  as  well  as 
of  verse  in  its  degree;  who  will  not  recognize 
in  the  vision  of  Mirza  a delicacy  and  beauty  of 


18 


NEWMAN’S  LITERATURE 


style  which  is  very  difficult  to  describe,  but  which 
is  felt  to  be  in  exact  correspondence  to  the  ideas 
of  which  it  is  the  expression? 

XV.  And,  since  the  thoughts  and  reasonings 
of  an  author  have,  as  I have  said,  a personal  char- 
acter, no  wonder  that  his  style  is  not  only  the 
image  of  his  subject  but  of  his  mind.  That  pomp 
of  language,  that  full  and  tuneful  diction,  that 
felicitousness  in  the  choice  and  exquisiteness  in 
the  collocation  of  words,  which  to  prosaic  writers 
seems  artificial,  is  nothing  else  but  the  mere  habit 
and  way  of  a lofty  intellect.  Aristotle,  in  his 
sketch  of  the  magnanimous  man,  tells  us  that  his 
voice  is  deep,  his  motions  slow,  and  his  stature 
commanding.  In  like  manner,  the  elocution  of  a 
great  intellect  is  great.  His  language  expresses 
not  only  his  great  thoughts,  but  his  great  self. 
Certainly  he  might  use  fewer  words  than  he  uses, 
but  he  fertilizes  his  simplest  ideas,  and  germinates 
into  a multitude  of  details,  and  prolongs  the 
march  of  his  sentences,  and  sweeps  round  to  the 
full  diapason  of  his  harmony,  as  if  yvbti  yoiw,  re- 
joicing in  his  own  vigor  and  richness  of  resource. 
\ I say,  a narrow  critic  will  call  it  verbiage,  when 
y really  it  is  a sort  of  fullness  of  heart,  parallel  to 
that  which  makes  the  merry  boy  whistle  as  he 
walks,  or  the  strong  man,  like  the  smith  in  the 
novel,  flourish  his  club  when  there  is  no  one  to 
fight  with. 


NEWMAN’S  LITERATURE 


19 


XVI.  Shakespeare  furnishes  us  with  frequent 
instances  of  this  peculiarity,  and  all  so  beautiful 
that  it  is  difficult  to  select  for  quotation.  For  in- 
stance, in  Macbeth: 

“Canst  thou  not  minister  to  a mind  niseased, 

Pluck  from  the  memory  a rooted  sorrow, 

Raze  out  the  written  troubles  of  the  brain, 

And,  with  some  sweet  oblivious  antidote, 

Cleanse  the  foul  bosom  of  that  perilous  stuff, 

Which  weighs  upon  the  heart?  ” 


Here  a simple  idea,  by  a process  which  belongs 
to  the  orator  rather  than  to  the  poet,  but  still 
comes  from  the  native  vigor  of  genius,  is  ex- 
panded into  a many-numbered  period. 

The  following  from  Hamlet  is  of  the  same  kind : 

“Tis  not  alone  my  inky  cloak,  good  mother, 

Nor  customary  suits  of  solemn  black, 

Nor  windy  suspiration  of  forced  breath, 

No,  nor  the  fruitful  river  in  the  eye, 

Nor  the  dejected  haviour  of  the  visage, 

Together  with  all  forms,  modes,  shows  of  grief, 

That  can  denote  me  truly.” 


XVII.  Now  if  such  declamation,  for  declama- 
tion it  is,  however  noble,  be  allowable  in  a poet, 
whose  genius  is  so  far  removed  from  pompous- 
ness or  pretence,  much  more  is  it  allowable  in  an 
orator,  whose  very  province  it  is  to  put  forth 
words  to  the  best  advantage  he  can.  Cicero  has 
nothing  more  redundant  in  any  part  of  his  writ- 
ings than  these  passages  from  Shakespeare.  No 
lover,  then,  at  least  of  Shakespeare,  may  fairly 


20 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


accuse  Cicero  of  gorgeousness  of  phraseology  or 
diffuseness  of  style.  Nor  will  any  sound  critic  be 
tempted  to  do  so.  As  a certain  unaffected  neat- 
ness and  propriety  and  grace  of  diction  may  be 
required  of  any  author  who  lays  claim  to  be  a 
classic,  for  the  same  reason  that  a certain  atten- 
tion to  dress  is  expected  of  every  gentleman,  so 
to  Cicero  may  be  allowed  the  privilege  of  the  “os 
magna  sonaturum,”  of  which  the  ancient  critic 
speaks.  His  copious,  majestic,  musical  flow  of 
language,  even  if  sometimes  beyond  what  the  sub- 
ject-matter demands,  is  never  out  of  keeping  with 
the  occasion  or  with  the  speaker.  It  is  the  expres- 
sion of  lofty  sentiments  in  lofty  sentences,  the 
“mens  magna  in  corpore  magno.’’  It  is  the  de- 
velopment of  the  inner  man.  Cicero  vividly 
realized  the  status  of  a Roman  senator  and  states- 
man, and  the  “pride  of  place”  of  Rome,  in  all  the 
grace  and  grandeur  which  attached  to  her;  and 
he  imbibed  and  became  what  he  admired.  As  the 
exploits  of  Scipio  or  Pompey  are  the  expression 
of  this  greatness  in  deed,  so  the  language  of 
Cicero  is  the  expression  of  it  in  word.  And  as 
the  acts  of  the  Roman  ruler  or  soldier  represent 
to  us  in  a manner  special  to  themselves  the  char- 
acteristic magnanimity  of  the  lords  of  the  earth, 
so  do  the  speeches  or  treatises  of  her  accomplished 
orator  bring  it  home  to  our  imaginations  as  no 
other  writing  could  do.  Neither  Livy,  nor  Ta- 


newman’s  literature 


21 


citus,  nor  Terence,  nor  Seneca,  nor  Pliny,  nor 
Quintilian  is  an  adequate  spokesman  for  the  Im- 
perial City.  They  write  Latin,  Cicero  writes 
Roman. 

XVIII.  You  will  say  that  Cicero’s  language  is 
undeniably  studied,  but  that  Shakespeare’s  is  as 
undeniably  natural  and  spontaneous,  and  that  this 
is  what  is  meant  when  the  classics  are  accused  of 
being  mere  artists  of  words.  Here  we  are  intro- 
duced to  a further  large  question,  which  gives  me 
the  opportunity  of  anticipating  a misapprehension 
of  my  meaning.  I observe,  then,  that  not  only  is 
that  lavish  richness  of  style  which  I have  noticed 
in  Shakespeare  justifiable  on  the  principles  which 
I have  been  laying  down,  but,  what  is  less  easy  to 
receive,  even  elaborateness  in  composition  is  no 
mark  of  trick  or  artifice  in  an  author.  Undoubt- 
edly the  works  of  the  classics,  particularly  the 
Latin,  are  elaborate;  they  have  cost  a great  deal 
of  time,  care,  and  trouble.  They  have  had  many 
rough  copies,  I grant  it.  I grant  also  that  there 
are  writers,  ancient  and  modern,  who  really  are 
guilty  of  the  absurdity  of  making  sentences  as  the 
very  end  of  their  literary  labor.  Such  was  Isocra- 
tes; such  were  some  of  the  sophists;  they  were 
set  on  words,  to  the  neglect  of  thoughts  or  things ; 

I cannot  defend  them.  If  I must  give  an  English 
instance  of  this  fault,  much  as  I love  and  revere 
the  personal  character  and  intellectual  vigor  of 


22 


NEWMAN’S  literature 


Dr.  Johnson,  I cannot  deny  that  his  style  often 
outruns  the  sense  and  the  occasion  and  is  wanting 
in  that  simplicity  which  is  the  attribute  of  genius. 
Still,  granting  all  this,  I cannot  grant,  notwith- 
standing, that  genius  never  need  take  pains — that 
genius  may  not  improve  by  practice ; that  it  never 
incurs  failures  and  succeeds  the  second  time;  that 
it  never  finishes  off  at  leisure  what  it  has  thrown 
off  in  the  outline  at  a stroke. 

XIX.  Take  the  instance  of  the  painter  or  the 
sculptor:  he  has  a conception  in  his  mind  which 
he  wishes  to  represent  in  the  medium  of  his  art — 
the  Madonna  and  Child,  or  Innocence,  or  Forti- 
tude, or  some  historical  character  or  event.  Do 
you  mean  to  say  he  does  not  study  his  subject? 
does  he  not  make  sketches?  does  he  not  even  call 
them  “studies”?  does  he  not  call  his  workroom  a 
studio?  is  he  not  ever  designing,  rejecting,  adopt- 
ing, correcting,  perfecting?  Are  not  the  first 
attempts  of  Michael  Angelo  and  Raffaello  extant, 
in  the  case  of  some  of  their  most  celebrated  com- 
positions? Will  any  one  say  that  the  Apollo  Bel- 
videre  is  not  a conception  patiently  elaborated  into 
its  proper  perfection?  These  departments  of 
taste  are,  according  to  the  received  notions  of  the 
world,  the  very  province  of  genius,  and  yet  we 
call  them  arts;  they  are  the  “Fine  Arts.”  Why 
may  not  that  be  true  of  literary  composition  which 
is  true  of  painting,  sculpture,  architecture,  and 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


23 


music?  Why  may  not  language  be  wrought  as 
well  as  colors?  Why  should  not  skill  in  diction  be 
simply  subservient  and  instrumental  to  the  great 
prototypal  ideas  which  are  the  contemplation  of  a 
Plato  or  a Virgil  ? Our  greatest  poet  tells  us, 

“The  poet’s  eye,  in  a fine  frenzy  rolling, 

Doth  glance  from  heaven  to  earth,  from  earth  to  heaven, 

And,  as  imagination  bodies  forth 

The  forms  of  things  unknown,  the  poet’s  pen 

Turns  them  to  shape,  and  gives  to  airy  nothing 

A local  habitation  and  a name.” 

Now,  is  it  wonderful  that  that  pen  of  his 
should  sometimes  be  at  fault  for  a while — that  it 
should  pause,  write,  erase,  rewrite,  amend,  com- 
plete, before  he  satisfies  himself  that  his  language 
has  done  justice  to  the  conceptions  which  his 
mind’s  eye  contemplated? 

XX.  In  this  point  of  view,  doubtless,  many  or 
most  writers  are  elaborate;  and  those  certainly 
not  the  least  whose  style  is  furthest  removed 
from  ornament,  being  simple  and  natural,  or  ve- 
hement, or  severely  business-like  and  practical. 
Who  so  energetic  and  manly  as  Demosthenes? 
Yet  he  is  said  to  have  transcribed  Thucydides 
many  times  over  in  the  formation  of  his  style. 
Who  so  gracefully  natural  as  Herodotus?  Yet 
his  very  dialect  is  not  his  own,  but  chosen  for  the 
sake  of  the  perfection  of  his  narrative.  Who 
exhibits  such  happy  negligence  as  our  own  Addi- 
son? Yet  artistic  fastidiousness  was  so  notori- 


24 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


ous  in  his  instance  that  the  report  has  got  abroad, 
truly  or  not,  that  he  was  too  late  in  his  issue  of  an 
important  state-paper,  from  his  habit  of  revision 
and  recomposition.  Such  great  authors  were 
working  by  a model  which  was  before  the  eyes 
of  their  intellect,  and  they  were  laboring  to  say 
,what  they  had  to  say  in  such  a way  as  would 
most  exactly  and  suitably  express  it.  It  is  not 
wonderful  that  other  authors,  whose  style  is  not 
simple,  should  be  instances  of  a similar  literary 
diligence.  Virgil  wished  his  ^Eneid  to  be  burned, 
elaborate  as  is  its  composition,  because  he  felt  it 
needed  more  labor  still  in  order  to  make  it  per- 
fect. The  historian  Gibbon,  in  the  last  century, 
is  another  instance  in  point.  You  must  not  sup- 
pose I am  going  to  recommend  his  style  for  imi- 
tation any  more  than  his  principles,  but  I refer 
to  him  as  the  example  of  a writer  feeling  the  task 
which  lay  before  him,  feeling  that  he  had  to  bring 
out  into  words  for  the  comprehension  of  his  read- 
ers a great  and  complicated  scene,  and  wishing 
that  those  words  should  be  adequate  to  his  under- 
taking. I think  he  wrote  the  first  chapter  of  his 
history  three  times  over;  it  was  not  that  he  cor- 
rected or  improved  the  first  copy,  but  he  put  his 
first  essay  and  then  his  second  aside — he  recast 
his  matter  till  he  had  hit  the  precise  exhibition  of 
it  which  he  thought  demanded  by  his  subject. 

XXI.  Now  in  all  these  instances  I wish  to  ob- 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


25 


serve  that  what  I have  admitted  about  literary 
workmanship  differs  from  the  doctrine  which  I 
am  opposing  in  this:  that  the  mere  dealer  in  words 
cares  little  or  nothing  for  the  subject  which  he  is 
embellishing,  but  can  paint  and  gild  anything 
whatever  to  order;  whereas  the  artist,  whom  I 
am  acknowledging,  has  his  great  or  rich  visions 
before  him  and  his  only  aim  is  to  bring  out  what 
he  thinks  or  what  he  feels  in  a way  adequate  to 
the  thing  spoken  of  and  appropriate  to  the  speaker. 

XXII.  The  illustration  which  I have  been  bor- 
rowing from  the  fine  arts  will  enable  me  to  go  a 
step  further.  I have  been  showing  the  connection 
of  the  thought  with  the  language  in  literary  com- 
position, and  in  doing  so  I have  exposed  the  un- 
philosophical  notion  that  the  language  was  an 
extra  which  could  be  dispensed  with  and  provided 
to  order,  according  to  the  demand.  But  I have 
not  yet  brought  out  what  immediately  follows 
from  this,  and  which  was  the  second  point  I had 
to  show,  viz.,  that  to  be  capable  of  easy  transla- 
tion is  no  test  of  the  excellence  of  a composition. 
If  I must  say  what  I think,  I should  lay  down 
with  little  hesitation  that  the  truth  was  almost  the 
reverse  of  this  doctrine.  Nor  are  many  words 
required  to  show  it.  Such  a doctrine,  as  is  con- 
tained in  the  passage  of  the  author  whom  I quoted 
when  I began,  goes  upon  the  assumption  that  one 
language  is  just  like  another  language — that  every 


26 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


language  has  all  the  ideas,  turns  of  thought,  deli- 
cacies of  expression,  figures,  associations,  abstrac- 
tions, points  of  view,  which  every  other  language 
has.  Now,  as  far  as  regards  science,  it  is  true 
that  all  languages  are  pretty  much  alike  for  the 
purposes  of  science ; but  even  in  this  respect  some 
are  more  suitable  than  others,  which  have  to  coin 
words,  or  to  borrow  them,  in  order  to  express 
scientific  ideas.  But  if  languages  are  not  all 
equally  adapted  even  to  furnish  symbols  for  those 
universal  and  eternal  truths  in  which  science  con- 
sists, how  can  they  reasonably  be  expected  to  be 
all  equally  rich,  equally  forcible,  equally  musical, 
equally  exact,  equally  happy  in  expressing  the 
idiosyncratic  peculiarities  of  thought  of  some 
original  and  fertile  mind  who  has  availed  himself 
of  one  of  them?  A great  author  takes  his  native 
language,  masters  it,  partly  throws  himself  into 
it,  partly  molds  and  adapts  it,  and  pours  out  his 
multitude  of  ideas  through  the  variously  ramified 
and  delicately  minute  channels  of  expression 
which  he  has  found  and  framed — does  it  follow 
that  this,  his  personal  presence  (as  it  may  be 
called),  can  forthwith  be  transferred  to  every 
other  language  under  the  sun?  Then  may  we  rea- 
sonably maintain  that  Beethoven’s  piano  music  is 
not  really  beautiful  because  it  cannot  be  played 
on  the  hurdy-gurdy?  Were  not  this  astonishing 
doctrine  maintained  by  persons  far  superior  to 


newman’s  literature 


27 


the  writer  whom  I have  selected  for  animadver- 
sion, I should  find  it  difficult  to  be  patient  under 
a gratuitous  extravagance.  It  seems  that  a really 
great  author  must  admit  of  translation,  and  that 
we  have  a test  of  his  excellence  when  he  reads  to 
advantage  in  a foreign  language  as  well  as  in  his 
own.  Then  Shakespeare  is  a genius  because  he 
can  be  translated  into  German,  and  not  a genius 
because  he  cannot  be  translated  into  French.  Then 
the  multiplication-table  is  the  most  gifted  of  all 
conceivable  compositions,  because  it  loses  nothing 
by  translation,  and  can  hardly  be  said  to  belong  to 
any  one  language  whatever.  Whereas  I should 
rather  have  conceived  that,  in  proportion  as  ideas 
are  novel  and  recondite,  they  would  be  difficult  to 
put  into  words,  and  that  the  very  fact  of  their 
having  insinuated  themselves  into  one  language 
would  diminish  the  chance  of  that  happy  accident 
being  repeated  in  another.  In  the  language  of 
savages  you  can  hardly  express  any  idea  or  act 
of  the  intellect  at  all : is  the  tongue  of  the  Hotten- 
tot or  Esquimaux  to  be  made  the  measure  of  the 
genius  of  Plato,  Pindar,  Tacitus,  St.  Jerome, 
Dante,  or  Cervantes? 

XXIII.  Let  us  recur,  I say,  to  the  illustration 
of  the  fine  arts.  I suppose  you  can  express  ideas 
in  painting  which  you  cannot  express  in  sculpture; 
and  the  more  an  artist  is  of  a painter  the  less  he 
is  likely  to  be  of  a sculptor.  The  more  he  commits 


28 


NEWMAN’S  LITERATURE 


his  genius  to  the  methods  and  conditions  of  his 
own  art  the  less  he  will  be  able  to  throw  himself 
into  the  circumstances  of  another.  Is  the  genius 
of  Fra  Angelo,  of  Francia,  or  of  Raffaello  dis- 
paraged by  the  fact  that  he  was  able  to  do  that  in 
colors  which  no  man  that  ever  lived,  which  no 
Angel,  could  achieve  in  wood?  Each  of  the  fine 
arts  has  its  own  subject-matter;  from  the  nature 
of  the  case  you  can  do  in  one  what  you  cannot 
do  in  another;  you  can  do  in  painting  what  you 
cannot  do  in  carving;  you  can  do  in  oils  what  you 
cannot  do  in  fresco;  you  can  do  in  marble  what 
you  cannot  do  in  ivory;  you  can  do  in  wax  what 
you  cannot  do  in  bronze.  Then,  I repeat,  apply- 
ing this  to  the  case  of  languages,  why  should  not 
genius  be  able  to  do  in  Greek  what  it  cannot  do 
in  Latin?  and  why  are  its  Greek  and  Latin  works 
defective  because  they  will  not  turn  into  English? 
That  genius  of  which  we  are  speaking  did  not 
make  English;  it  did  not  make  all  languages, 
present,  past,  and  future ; it  did  not  make  the  laws 
of  any  language:  why  is  it  to  be  judged  of  by  that 
in  which  it  had  no  part,  over  which  it  has  no 
control? 

XXIV.  And  now  we  are  naturally  brought  on 
to  our  third  point,  which  is  on  the  characteristics 
of  Holy  Scripture  as  compared  with  profane  liter- 
ature. Hitherto  we  have  been  concerned  with  the 
doctrine  of  these  writers,  viz.,  that  style  is  an  ex- 


newman’s  literature  29 

tra,  that  it  is  a mere  artifice,  and  that  hence  it 
cannot  be  translated;  now  we  come  to  their  fact, 
viz.,  that  Scripture  has  no  such  artificial  style,  and 
that  Scripture  can  easily  be  translated.  Surely 
their  fact  is  as  untenable  as  their  doctrine. 

XXV.  Scripture  easy  of  translation ! then  why 
have  there  been  so  few  good  translators?  why  is 
it  that  there  has  been  such  great  difficulty  in  com- 
bining the  two  necessary  qualities,  fidelity  to  the 
original  and  purity  in  the  adopted  vernacular? 
why  is  it  that  the  authorized  versions  of  the 
Church  are  often  so  inferior  to  the  original  as 
compositions,  except  that  the  Church  is  bound 
above  all  things  to  see  that  the  version  is  doctrin- 
ally  correct,  and  in  a difficult  problem  is  obliged 
to  put  up  with  defects  in  what  is  of  secondary 
importance,  provided  she  secure  what  is  of  first? 
If  it  were  so  easy  to  transfer  the  beauty  of  the 
original  to  the  copy,  she  would  not  have  been 
content  with  her  received  version  in  various  lan- 
guages which  could  be  named. 

XXVI.  And  then  in  the  next  place,  Scripture 
not  elaborate!  Scripture  not  ornamented  in  dic- 
tion, and  musical  in  cadence!  Why,  consider  the 
Epistle  to  the  Hebrews — where  is  there  in  the 
classics  any  composition  more  carefully,  more  ar- 
tificially written?  Consider  the  book  of  Job— 
is  it  not  a sacred  drama,  as  artistic,  as  perfect  as 
any  Greek  tragedy  of  Sophocles  or  Euripides? 


30 


NEWMAN  S LITERATURE 


Consider  the  Psalter — are  there  no  ornaments,  no 
rhythm,  no  studied  cadences,  no  responsive  mem- 
bers in  that  divinely  beautiful  book?  And  is  it 
not  hard  to  understand?  are  not  the  prophets 
hard  to  understand?  is  not  St.  Paul  hard  to  under- 
stand? Who  can  say  that  these  are  popular  com- 
positions? who  can  say  that  they  are  level  at  first 
reading  with  the  understandings  of  the  multitude? 

XXVII.  That  there  are  portions  indeed  of  the 
inspired  volume  more  simple  both  in  style  and  in 
meaning,  and  that  these  are  the  more  sacred  and 
sublime  passages,  as,  for  instance,  parts  of  the 
Gospel,  I grant  at  once;  but  this  does  not  militate 
against  the  doctrine  I have  been  laying  down. 
Recollect,  gentlemen,  my  distinction  when  I be- 
gan. I have  said  literature  is  one  thing  and  that 
science  is  another;  that  literature  has  to  do  with 
ideas  and  science  with  realities;  that  literature  is 
of  a personal  character,  that  science  treats  of  what 
is  universal  and  eternal.  In  proportion  then  as 
Scripture  excludes  the  personal  coloring  of  its 
writers  and  rises  into  the  region  of  pure  and  mere 
inspiration,  when  it  ceases  in  any  sense  to  be  the 
writing  of  man,  of  St.  Paul,  or  St.  John,  or  Moses, 
or  Isaias,  then  it  comes  to  belong  to  science,  not 
literature;  then  it  conveys  the  things  of  heaven, 
unseen  verities,  divine  manifestations,  and  them 
alone — not  the  ideas,  the  feelings,  the  aspirations 
of  its  human  instruments,  who,  for  all  that  they 


newman’s  literature 


31 


were  inspired  and  infallible,  did  not  cease  to  be 
men.  St.  Paul’s  epistle,  then,  I consider  to  be  lit- 
erature in  a real  and  true  sense,  as  personal,  as 
rich  in  reflection  as  Demosthenes  or  Euripides; 
and  without  ceasing  to  be  revelations  of  objective 
truth,  they  are  expressions  of  the  subjective  not- 
withstanding. On  the  other  hand,  portions  of  the 
Gospels,  of  the  book  of  Genesis,  and  other  pas- 
sages of  the  Sacred  Volume  are  of  the  nature  of 
science.  Such  is  the  beginning  of  St.  John’s  Gos- 
pel, which  we  read  at  the  end  of  Mass.  Such  is 
the  Creed.  I mean  passages  such  as  these  are 
the  mere  enunciation  of  eternal  things,  without, 
so  to  say,  the  medium  of  any  human  mind  trans- 
mitting them  to  us.  The  words  used  have  the 
grandeur,  the  majesty,  the  calm  unimpassioned 
beauty  of  science;  they  are  in  no  sense  literature, 
they  are  in  no  sense  personal,  and  therefore  they 
are  easy  to  apprehend  and  easy  to  translate. 

XXVIII.  Did  time  admit  I could  show  you 
parallel  instances  of  what  I am  speaking  of  in  the 
classics,  inferior  to  the  inspired  word  in  propor- 
tion as  the  subject-matter  of  the  classical  authors 
is  immensely  inferior  to  the  subjects  treated  of  in 
Scripture — but  parallel  inasmuch  as  the  classical 
author  or  speaker  ceases  for  the  moment  to  have 
to  do  with  literature,  as  speaking  of  things  objec- 
tively, and  rises  to  the  serene  sublimity  of  science. 
But  I should  be  carried  too  far  if  I began. 


32 


NEWMAN’S  LITERATURE 


XXIX.  I shall,  then,  merely  sum  up  what  I 
have  said  and  come  to  a conclusion.  Reverting, 
then,  to  my  original  question,  what  is  the  meaning 
of  letters,  as  contained,  gentlemen,  in  the  designa- 
tion of  your  faculty ,[T have  answered,  that  by  let- 
ters or  literature^  is  meant  the  expression  of 
thought  in  language,  where  by  “thought”  I mean 
the  ideas,  feelings,  views,  reasonings,  and  other 


letters  Is  "the  method  by  which  a speaker  or  writer 
brings  out  in  words  worthy  of  his  subject  and 
sufficient  for  his  audience  or  readers,  the  thoughts 
which  impress  him.  Literature,  then,  is  of  a per- 
sonal character ; it  consists  in  the  enunciations  and 
teachings  of  those  who  have  a right  to  speak 
as  representatives  of  their  kind,  and  in  whose 
words  their  brethren  find  an  interpretation  of 
their  own  sentiments,  a record  of  their  own  ex- 
perience, and  a suggestion  for  their  judgments. 
A great  author,  gentlemen,  is  not  one  who  merely 
has  a copia  verborum,  whether  in  prose  or  verse, 
and  can,  as  it  were,  turn  on  at  his  will  any  num- 
ber of  splendid  phrases  and  swelling  sentences; 
but  he  is  one  who  has  something  to  say  and  knows 
how  to  say  it.  I do  not  claim  for  him,  as  such, 
any  great  depth  of  thought,  or  breadth  of  view, 
or  philosophy,  or  sagacity,  or  knowledge  of  hu- 
man nature,  or  experience  of  human  life,  though 
these  additional  gifts  he  may  have,  and  the  more 


operations  of  the  human 


newman’s  literature 


33 


he  has  of  them  the  greater  he  is;  but  I ascribe  to 
him,  as  his  characteristic  gift  in  a large  sense,  the 
faculty  of  Expression.  He  is  master  of  the  two- 
fold Logos,  the  thought  and  the  word,  distinct 
but  inseparable  from  each  other.  He  may,  if  so 
be,  elaborate  his  compositions,  or  he  may  pour 
out  his  improvisations,  but  in  either  case  he  has 
but  one  aim,  which  he  keeps  steadily  before  him, 
and  is  conscientious  and  single-minded  in  fulfill- 
ing. That  aim  is  to  give  forth  what  he  has  with- 
in him;  and  from  his  very  earnestness  it  comes 
to  pass  that,  whatever  be  the  splendor  of  his 
diction,  or  the  harmony  of  his  periods,  he  has 
with  him  the  charm  of  an  incommunicable  sim- 
plicity. Whatever  be  his  subject,  high  or  low, 
he  treats  it  suitably  and  for  its  own  sake.  If  he 
is  a poet,  “nil  molitur  inepte.”  If  he  is  an  orator, 
then,  too,  he  speaks  not  only  “distincte”  and 
“splendide,”  but  also  “apte”  His  page  is  the 
lucid  mirror  of  his  mind  and  life — 

“Quo  fit,  ut  omnis 

Votiva  pateat  veluti  descripta  tabella 

Vita  senis.” 

He  writes  passionately  because  he  feels  keenly; 
forcibly  because  he  conceives  vividly;  he  sees  too 
clearly  to  be  vague;  he  is  too  serious  to  be  otiose; 
he  can  analyze  his  subject,  and  therefore  he  is 
rich;  he  embraces  it  as  a whole  and  in  its  parts, 
and  therefore  he  is  consistent;  he  has  a firm  hold 


34 


NEWMAN’S  LITERATURE 


of  it,  and  therefore  he  is  luminous.  When  his  im- 
agination wells  up  it  overflows  in  ornament; 
when  his  heart  is  touched  it  thrills  along  his  verse. 
He  always  has  the  right  word  for  the  right  idea, 
and  never  a word  too  much.  If  he  is  brief,  it  is 
because  few  words  suffice;  when  he  is  lavish  of 
them  still  each  word  has  its  mark,  and  aids,  not 
embarrasses,  the  vigorous  march  of  his  elocution. 
He  expresses  what  all  feel  but  all  cannot  say;  and 
his  sayings  pass  into  proverbs  among  his  people, 
and  his  phrases  become  household  words  and  id- 
ioms of  their  daily  speech,  which  is  tesselated  with 
the  rich  fragments  of  his  language,  as  we  see  in 
foreign  lands  the  marbles  of  Roman  grandeur 
worked  into  the  walls  and  pavements  of  modern 
palaces. 

XXX.  Such  pre-eminently  is  Shakespeare 
among  ourselves ; such  pre-eminently  Virgil  among 
the  Latins ; such  in  their  degree  are  all  those  writ- 
ers who  in  every  nation  go  by  the  name  of  classics. 
To  particular  nations  they  are  necessarily  attached 
from  the  circumstance  of  the  variety  of  tongues 
and  the  peculiarities  of  each ; but,  so  far,  they  have 
a catholic  and  ecumenical  character,  that  what 
they  express  is  common  to  the  whole  race  of  man, 
and  they  alone  are  able  to  express  it. 

XXXI.  If,  then,  the  power  of  speech  is  a gift 
as  great  as  any  that  can  be  named;  if  the  origin 
of  language  is  by  many  philosophers  even  consid- 


newman’s  literature 


35 


ered  to  be  nothing  short  of  divine;  if  by  means  of 
words  the  secrets  of  the  heart  are  brought  to  light, 
pain  of  soul  is  relieved,  hidden  grief  is  carried  off, 
sympathy  conveyed,  counsel  imparted,  experience 
recorded,  and  wisdom  perpetuated;  if  by  great  au- 
thors the  many  are  drawn  up  into  unity,  national 
character  is  fixed,  a people  speaks,  the  past  and 
the  future,  the  East  and  the  West  are  brought  into 
communication  with  each  other;  if  such  men  are, 
in  a word,  the  spokesmen  and  prophets  of  the  hu- 
man family, — it  will  not  answer  to  make  light  of 
literature  or  to  neglect  its  study;  rather  we  may 
be  sure  that,  in  proportion  as  we  master  it  in  what- 
ever language  and  imbibe  its  spirit,  we  shall  our- 
selves become  in  our  own  measure  the  ministers 
of  like  benefits  to  others,  be  they  many  or  few,  be 
they  in  the  obscurer  or  the  more  distinguished 
walks  of  life,  who  are  united  to  us  by  social  ties 
and  are  within  the  sphere  of  our  personal  in- 
fluence. 


